Darkness
by Gale
Summary: Darkness knew what kind of risks he was taking by his attempt to tip the balance of the Universe, especially if he happened to fail to kill both unicorns. So how was he held accountable? Updated! RR please. It's a Beta. Be Gentle.
1. Forward: In the Beginning

Darkness

*written by Gale*

Disclaimer - I take no credit for the characters portrayed in the Ridley Scott film, _Legend. _I merely borrow, and give tribute with this bit of a fic I'm attempting to put together. 

FORWARD - In the Beginning

In the beginning, there was nothing. Darkness makes claim to its origin here, for its abstract, the Lord Darkness himself, is a vain creature, much like his father. Abstracts of much greater age understood that in the beginning, there were not even names. The nothingness, contained within the unborn dreams of the Great Spirit that created all, gave way to its whims to create life. From its very being sprang the first bits of existence. 

These were beings of power nearly as great as its own. Their unity would add up to its greatness, but they were flawed. They bore no distinction, and they were aware. They were not as their creator, for they still felt the need to be individual. But in order to give them what they desired, for the Great Spirit is a loving and understanding entity, more lives had to be created for them to govern. It stretched out its will and brought forth more life to the universe, from the void drawing out worlds, and all forms of life, called Mortals, sending more of itself to grow and learn. 

These new lives, each great and small, were placed under the charge of the Great Spirit's two wisest children, for one to encompass these birthing Mortals, for the other, the wiser and stronger of the two, to guide in the transition between existences. In turn, as the populous of the universe grew stronger, wiser, and more diverse, these two began to take form, and were given the names of Life and Death. The principle which they, together, summed up, was that of Nature, and this is where each of the rest of the Great Spirit's children took up their identities. Night and Day followed as the great cycles by which all forms of life would converge. These were the last entities to take forms of unconditional symbols.

But just as the children Abstracts were selfish enough to desire identity, the Mortals were in turn selfish, but also unhappy with their own inherent uniqueness. In their discontent, another Abstract took his name. The most human of all the Abstracts in his egocentric ways, he formed himself to feed off of and benefit from Mortal unhappiness. He named himself Evil. From him came the concepts of Envy, Hate, and Dishonesty. He was merely part of a whole, however, for his brother, equally selfish but happy to bask in the happiness of Mortals, was given a name as well. He was Goodness, who gave way to the ideas of Truth, Love, and greatest of all, Innocence. As they mingled together, as they were bound to do, the inspiration of Lust and Ignorance came about as well. 

The naming of these Abstracts drew two of the Unconditionals to their sides, Night and Day. Goodness marveled at the Day, pleased to pair with an entity who brought all things to bear. Evil felt drawn to the mystery of Night, where principles of deceit could linger unhindered by morality. The two pairs gave birth to creatures of element, who, while bearing their parents' prestige and the indebtitudes of Mortals, were also tainted by the self-serving ways of their fathers. These were Darkness, sovereign of the demons and goblins, and Light, personified in the form of the Unicorn.

Thus the Universe was stripped of its perfection that was, indeed, void. Life sprang forth, and the spirits of Mortals continued to live, die and be reborn. The Abstracts, children of the Great Spirit, were in turn content with their ways. The Great Spirit did not restrict them by any standards, allowing them to grow and live as they pleased, did not even demand their love adoration in return for its gifts to them. However, the Great Spirit laid down one single law, meant to bring order to what would surely be Chaos:

__

Never Upset the Balance. 

TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. Prologue: Judgement

Darkness

-A Legend Fanfic-

*Written By Gale*

Disclaimer - Same goes as before.

Prologue - Judgement

I am alive…

Darkness' flexed his clawed fingers experimentally, feeling a disbelieving grin stretch across his angular face. He remembered only too well his final moments in the Mortal World, the sound of blades and horns and hoofs in mad clutter and competition, the burning, scorching bands of daylight that flowed and scraped across his nocturnal flesh and blinded his poor eyes. Fear gripped him for the first time, then, for he stood for the first time, completely exposed to the eyes of the present. No shadows draped comfortingly over his form, nor over the deed he'd attempted. The sound of his own voice still rang in his ears, echoing entreat to the name of his Father for protection in those last moments, and how his beating heart wrenched in his chest when for the first time he neither heard nor felt a response. 

But now, as he drifted about in the still, soothing blackness of the void, he felt his element slowly cool and close his wretched wounds.

He lived. 

A low, rumbling laugh came up from his chest, hesitant at first, but the instant the sound touched his ears, its intensity built with a sudden rush of bravado. The initial anguish at the thought that he'd been abandoned by his sire was long gone, now, for surely he had been mistaken. 

"Father…" he breathed, eyes closing against a wave of exhilaration. "Thank you."

"You are a _FOOL!" _

Darkness grimaced, and he tasted a coppery wetness on his tongue from where his fangs bore down too hard upon his lip. Aching reverberation shot through his ears, and he hissed in pain as a biting gale displaced his course and stung like salt at his not fully healed injuries, there and gone again in a flash. His cloven feet came in loud contact with a stone surface, and he stumbled in disorientation as the feeling of his own weight once again occurred to him. 

The void was gone. As he regained his footing, he took note of the boundaries the resonance traveled to, instinct allowing him to rationalize the existence of walls and pillars, their density, and how close and far away each of them were from where he stood. The chamber came to light, bathing him in a cool blue haze under the blazing ends of an array of mounted torches. He quirked a heavy brow at his own reflection in the floor beneath his hoofed steps and drew his tattered robe up around himself in a self-important manner. 

He knew his surroundings vaguely, seeing as how in a lifetime spanning several millennia, he'd seen it maybe twice. Despite the fury in the voice that drew him here, he was no longer afraid, but rather pleased, still so when it spoke again.

"You _dare _entreat your _Father?" _

Pleased he was, but knowing better than to add stupidity to his list of flaws, Darkness cleared his throat and ensured himself of a more humble tone before speaking. "It has been too long that I've been denied the sight of your face, Mother Night. If I have done you wrong, then please, face me and allow me to amend it."

"You have done more than that, Darkness." The cobalt flames of the torches leapt from their watch points and melded together in the floor before him, rising and shifting along the form which came to being within them. They licked and danced over flesh and robes of a deeper hue before dying, obediently relighting themselves on the torches they abandoned once their task was finished. 

It was not her nature to appear in too off-putting a shape, and in turn was a great deal smaller than Darkness remembered. A crown of silky, silver hair whispered around a near blue-black face. Her stark eyes glowed with the borrowed light from the flames, much like his own had a propensity to do in dim areas. 

She raised her chin expectantly at him, and understanding, he knelt before her. 

Mother Night, being of an ever solemn demeanor, found ways of expression beyond mere sight. As it was Darkness that was born from her, she chose to interact and exist among the living without the necessity of a Mortal's characteristically superficial eyes. Darkness was unable to distinguish how or when exactly she drew herself closer to him, but suddenly she was there just the same. Smooth, azure hands slid up along his shoulders to his neck, brushing over where the enemy's arrows had lodged themselves into his hide, and with a light sting, they were gone, the abrasions they made now sealed and painless. Night's face was barely inches from his own, much so that her own breath and inner warmth mingled with his own.

Her palms found his face, and in a matronly gesture, she bent forward and planted her cool lips on his brow. In a simple, smooth motion, her arms slid around his neck, cheek to his cheek, and Darkness found himself exhaling slowly, tiredly, and drawing his own massive arms around her seemingly meek and breakable form. His hands hesitated upon her back, claws retracting somewhat into his fingers; the nerves in his skin jolted, guardedly halting him from making excessive contact with her. 

When she spoke again, she still remained firm, but the sheer intensity that'd been in her voice moments ago was no longer there, favorably replaced with a patient whisper. "You know what it is you tried to do, my child."

"I am ashamed of nothing, Mother," he said cooly, retaining his stillness for her. 

"And that is part of the problem." Her lips brushed against his ear. "There is but one law for our kind, Darkness. You all but tore it asunder, then dared to act surprised when Death graced your stronghold." She squeezed his shoulder meaningfully. "What's worse, you gave the credit for your redemption to your Father, who would have cut you down himself before answering your cry."

A low growl rose in his throat, and Darkness jolted away from her. Night's arms broke from him as swiftly and effortlessly as passing through smoke. She was neither amused nor alarmed by his faint outburst, and he could not expect her to be. In one of her seldom bouts of facial expression, however, he did see the gradual narrowing of her eyes, the only visual sign of her growing irritation. 

"Know this, my child," she said. "It was _I _who petitioned Death for your life, just as it was _I _who gave birth to you, not that insufferable peacock you call your sire. You live because I wish it, and because you will _not _pass on without accounting for what you have done."

Darkness drew himself up onto his feet, standing his full height before her now. "You would choose to judge me, Mother Night?" he inquired. 

"I would do more than that," she corrected. "I have been the one chosen to mete out your punishment."

That feeling again. A sinking, aching feeling creeping up from the pit of his stomach. 

Mother Night seemed entirely unaware of it, however. "As a whole, our kind know what has taken place, and they agree that you can hardly be punished for what has come to be your nature," she said gravely. "So it has been agreed that in order to prevent this happening again, you must be removed from it."

"Removed, Mother?"

Once more, she was suddenly close to him again. However, the feeling of comfort he received in the past was replaced by a sinking, groggy feeling that made him stagger yet again on his feet. His vision swam, and were he not so impulsively tired, he might have had his first experience in panic. 

"You have a task to perform, my son." Her voice echoed, seemed so very distant, now…

Darkness felt the coldness of the stone floor against his back as the void engulfed him once more. Still, his mother's voice resonated in the back of his mind like a dream. 

__

If you wish to return to your throne, you must earn the responsibility… You must…

When he woke again, it was under the hateful gaze of the sun.

__

…Live… 

TO BE CONTINUED…


	3. Prologue 2: Awake

Darkness

-A Legend Fanfic-

*written by Gale*

A/N: I know I'm dragging out the forwards and prologues and really should just get on with the story, and I'd intended to when I woke up this morning. Really I did. After the Prologue was finished out, my plan was to skip ahead ten years and set up the actual plot. My brain demanded that this scene be written out first, however. Again, this is still a beta. When I go back to do the final draft, I'll incorporate this chapter and the last one into a single work, which is why this one is starting with the ending words of the previous. Enjoy.

Prologue 2 - Awake

When he woke again, it was under the hateful gaze of the sun. 

__

…Live…

The last ringing sound of his Mother's words were chased away with his own choked roar as he dug his fingers into the muddy earth beneath him. He turned his eyes away from the piercing light in pain, burnt so by the sudden shock that they felt as though they were bleeding. Smelling only salt, he knew that hot wetness he felt dashing along the sleeker lines of his face was only tears. And while his eyes did indeed hurt like they had when the sun entered his sanctuary, it did not take him long to realize that they were the only parts of his body even remotely injured by the illumination he was cringing away from. 

Already Darkness felt and acknowledged the drastic changes in the shape of his body, even if he could not open his eyes to see them. He was naked, without his familiar robes. The filth he'd awakened in slunk slimily along now hairless legs. His hands were less than helpful as he tried to lever himself out of the grime, now having no claws to take deeper purchase in the ground. As it was, he had to lift an arm to shade his forcefully closed eyes against the ever-insistent sun. While the damned orb would not kill him, he most certainly would not adjust to it anytime soon and could only pray his blindness would abate when it set -- however far away in time that happened to be. His feet, now jointed, aided him at least in finding some semblance of balance, but having lived millennia accustomed to cloven stumps in the place of what might have been human bases, that sense of balance was short lived, indeed, and he once again found himself with his face in the mud. 

__

No crueler a punishment, he thought blandly, all the while cursing himself for his own clumsiness.

Mortal. He was mortal. Not only that, but a _human _mortal.

__

And a blind one at that. I had no idea Mother was quite this creative. 

Human and lost as he was, (not to mention hungry), Darkness found that his sense of hearing had, in no way, been altered, and already he began mapping out his surroundings. The constant chatter of animals, added with the rustle of leaves told him all he really needed to know, actually; that he was in the forest. But his particular talent took advantage of the din, which, when measured against where the sound reached to, also told him that he was in a ditch at the base of a very large oak, given its shape. No terribly substantial animals were within reach of him, and if he wanted to get out of the mud, he was going to have to climb out by the roots of the tree.

Hoping very much that his arms weren't as flimsy as he feared they might be, Darkness groped for the nearest solid surface in the oak's immediate direction and pulled. Thankfully, Mother did not seem to be looking to mock him more than essentially, and the rest of his body followed with little trouble. The shade from towering branches offered the cover his still-closed eyes needed while both of his arms were at work. 

He knew he was out of the ditch when his range expanded, and he "saw" a greater array of trees and shrubs growing vastly out of his reach. He dragged himself out of the slope, now crawling into what felt like a well-blazed trail. The pads of his hands ached from the climb; he'd forgotten what it was like to be without calluses in the proper places. 

A soft, slow rumble made him pause in the path, and he flattened his palms against the dry terrain and pursed his lips in concentration. 

__

Horse... Mounted... Approaching at a slow and steady pace… 

Darkness lifted his head at the sound of a sharp cry in the distance, neither human nor animal. High-pitched yet resonant, with a liquid, almost metallic quality to it, the blare tugged on the strings of his memory, and would have willed up a matching image to go with it had the sound of the nearing horse overtake the rest of his senses so completely. He crept out of the pathway and crouched, waiting for the rider to come within range. 

Come it did, and Darkness began to slowly piece together the form astride the charger in his mind. He could only decipher its average size before it came to mind that it slowed and halted near him. 

The necessity to guard himself was still such an alien concept to him that he neither moved nor even steeled himself when the horse's master's feet came in resounding contact with the earth as it dismounted. Darkness kept himself still, aware of his opponent's widened stance, his ever astute ears picking up the soft _shink _of an unsheathing blade -- each clever enough signs to tell him that this was a hunter. 

It paused, and the silence between them could only indicate he was being sized up as well. Hearing a quiet, serpentine laugh indicated that he obviously failed just as much as his counterpart to inspire fear. Once again, his mind connected that sound to the cry that came to him earlier, and for a second time, a face nearly joined the thought. 

Darkness reacted only in time to swipe the hand away that reached for his scalp, likely to grab at the hair he now found he sported, and while his palm held that particular hazard away, his muscles froze at the sensation of cold steel brushing threateningly against his neck.

"Quite a brave little Mortal you must be," hissed his assailant, and Darkness had to stop himself from blinking in realization, if only to protect his poor eyes. He grimaced and shifted away from the sharp edge at his throat when it drew heavier upon his skin. "But foolish you are to tarry with me."

Blix. And just his luck: he was no longer, in shape, the capricious Goblin's imposing Lord. That did not stop an indignant swell of his ego from rising up inside him, however. He might have been without his throne, his form, and his power, but he would die a thousand times over before he let the likes of this unworthy and presumptuous idiot get the best of him. 

Instinct drew him up onto the balls of his feet, slowly so as not to alarm or further compromise the position of the weapon at his craw, and the hand he had on Blix's free wrist tightened its hold. Darkness sensed a rise in him, then, and twisted the goblin's appendage roughly, first using his panic to swivel his head away from then duck his swiping dagger. While rising on his legs, his free hand caught Blix's trekking arm and thrust it up and back. There was a sickening pop in his opponent's shoulder, telling Darkness that he had, indeed, finished his desired task. He released the goblin's other arm and jammed his elbow toward the skull. The sound of bone against bone graced his ears, and Blix toppled back, disarmed and, in Darkness' opinion, properly humbled. 

His nostrils flared as he drew in a few winded breaths, already feeling the beginnings of perspiration rise up on his flesh, even from that small and unsubstantial workout. 

Darkness heard Blix whimper as he dragged himself up from the ground. He heard a smaller blade unsheathe and held up a cautionary hand. "Attack me again, Goblin, and you'll pay for it with your life," he growled, not the least bit surprised that with his hearing, his voice did not suffer any great changes, either. 

Blix froze, still half-crouching, but seemed significantly put off by his words, well enough that his weapon fell from his hand. Despite the lack of change, Darkness felt that his voice should have been too little to derive such a reaction from his former servant. But before he could inquire, his deduction was, for the moment, proven wrong.

"Master…?" Blix hedged. 

"I'm surprised it took you so little time to figure it out," he snapped in irritation before thrusting a hand toward him. "Your cloak." He felt himself scowl insolently when the heavy drape of cloth came in contact with his skin, and he tied it about his waist hurriedly. "Right yourself. Your arm is not broken, although you should know that already." Once he felt sure all that needed to be covered for protection sake, he tore a useless strip from the garment and secured it about his eyes. "Where are the others, Blix?"

"Dead, your Lordship."

"Truly?" Darkness murmured, not sounding the least bit surprised nor distressed upon hearing this. 

He listened disinterestedly as the goblin rose and popped his shoulder back into place. "Blix had come to believe that Master was just as done. How is it you are here now, Great One?"

Darkness felt his lips twist into a snarl. That, indeed, was the question of the hour, wasn't it? His mother spoke of a task to carry out in order to reassume his power. However, she left little to no explanation of what this undertaking would actually entail, merely that he was required to _earn _it back. His mind tumbled over ideas in the only type of logic he possessed: those aligned specifically with his own instincts and desires. The law of nature dictated that greatness would only present itself to those who were strong enough to take it, so that must have been what it was. If he wanted his power back, all he needed to do was go after it. That would not be a quick or simple task. He would require followers. Blix would be the first of many. He'd obey Darkness and could hardly dare try to attack him again. Now that he had proven he could take him down without pure sight of his treachery, the loathsome pest would do little but fall into place from then on. That failed, he would die, of course. 

"Know only that I have returned, Goblin," Darkness responded after much thought. "Whatever has come to pass in my absence is but a memory. Now that I have returned," he said with a smile, "Things can go back to the way they were. Soon."

And that could not be more than true. For Darkness was Alive. 

He lived. 

TO BE CONTINUED…


	4. I: Valley of My Birth

Darkness

-A Legend Fanfic-

*Written By Gale*

A/N - PLEASE READ: Yes, this is where the story _really _begins. Note that this chapter starts Ten Years after the events in the Prologue, so expect things to be different. This serves as the intro for the other main character of this story. Yes, it's an original character, and please don't steal.

Part I - Valley of My Birth

Well into the night, there lingered within the hut of wise-woman Medefey a torpid, sickly air that could only be looming death. Her labored rasping and coughing tore through what would have been the tranquility of the surrounding forest like a poison, troubling its inhabitants very little. The end was, after all, just a fact of life for every plant and animal there, and seeing as how the only creatures to roam the earth that feared their own mortality were humans, there was very little restlessness at all in the wood, save within the hut itself. 

Medefey, at a clearer and more jubilant hour, was a crooked, wizened creature, the lines of her age carved into her speckled olive skin like the bark of the oak. Her white hair was stringy and untamed, but fine and soft as the strands of a spider's web; her granddaughter always strung braids and flowers into it to try and keep it tidy, but it seemed to have a mind and heart of its own. Like any old woman, be she grandmother or crone, her most brilliant feature remained her eyes; sparkling and so filled with the joys and aches of a life nearly gone but well-thanked for. 

The last withering, dying petals of a few stray daisies still hung about her sweating, pain stretched face in her final hours, seeming content to go with their mistress. Despite her grave and ever-charging illness, Medefey did not look the least bit afraid in the light of the dimming fireplace. Her eyes, half-lidded from exhaustion, still gleamed, but with an air of sadness, now. She watched her near-equally weary granddaughter rush about the interior of the hut, struggling with the ingredients of a potion that, on any other day but her death-day, would compel her pains to recede. The old woman's displeasure came not from her own expiration, but for the sacrifices it was forcing the child to make. 

Lidene was smart for her age and proficient in their craft, but she still had much to learn yet that the old woman could not teach her. She was outspoken, proudly so, but so detached from the wilds around them, which was probably why she was skilled at best in medicine-making and not an expert. Medefey had no idea how one of her own had come to give birth to a child who hated getting dirty, bathed only in the safety of their own hut, and bound her hair away to hide it from the caress of nature. She knew the songs of their family, their proverbs and traditions, could recite them all by heart, but her grandmother feared she might be too old and bitter with herself before she came to know their true meaning. She'd always been so confident in her own ways, and strong after the loss of her parents, but the last few weeks had been the worst for both of them, and late nights brewing potions and cleaning up after her grandmother had begun to take their toll. As it was Medefey's philosophy, everyone should know and understand the concept of death, but it was unfair to push her misfortunes upon one so young, one who had more to live for save caring for her in some boundless hope that she might live forever. For Lidene's comfort, she wished she could.

Medefey's eyes fluttered shut when she felt the girl kneel next to her, and she sighed gratefully at the feeling of a wet cloth brushing against her forehead. "Child, ye do too much for me," she murmured.

"It is my wish to," Lidene said simply, using her one and only answer for ending arguments, and really, it was all anyone of their family needed to say, being of the belief that if the whim pleased and caused no harm, then it should be done. This was hardly the case here, as it seemed the youth was more than bent over backwards with all her added chores. There was a little harm in it. But Medefey allowed that leaving her be would probably be worse on her, emotionally. 

__

Silly willful girl, she thought._ So much like her mother. _

"Is that better?" 

The old woman strained to nod. "Aye," she croaked, although they both knew it was a lie. "Ye best be getting to bed soon, dearie. Tis late."

"Not until I'm sure you're feeling all right."

"Child," Medefey said patiently, "I know this has occurred to ye, so ye be thinking on it a bit more, but I'm not going to get better." At her grandchild's frown, she lifted a creaking hand to silence her. "Don't ye be wollarin on my account, either," she scolded. "I've lived a long and happy life, and I regret little to nothing I done save going after me own babies. Now ye'll not be mournin after me too long, dearie. People come to this place from miles around for our aid, and ye'll not turn a one away."

"Grandmother, I don't think I'm ready to do that without you."

"Neever said ye'd be alone, child." Medefey tried to smile for her, and for an instant that same old sparkle came back to her eyes as she whispered, "I'm always with ye if ye believe." She touched a gnarled hand to Lidene's cheek. "Now, chin up, and don't ye be thinking of crying now. I'll be needin ye to do me one last favor, and I need ye to listen well."

Lidene appeared to think long and hard on these words, visibly choking back a few sad tears, and had Medefey the strength she would brush them away. 

In her small attempt to be strong for her, try to be the adult she was turning into, Lidene looked all the more like the toddling babe she used to be when her mother and father were taken with the sudden winter: lost, afraid, but still trying to be a good girl, trying to believe the stories she'd been told, that they were still there with her. She supposed that was why Lidene was so detached from their profession, from the world around them. After all, why should a child long to touch what's living, bask in all that's around her, when she cannot be held by her own mother, when there was the fear that all that might be taken away, too? Faith was too deep a concept to instill in Lidene's mind at that age, not when what she needed was something tangible. Medefey had hoped she served that kind of purpose in her grandchild's life, and to the best of her ability, she felt she succeeded. However, she would not allow herself to think this girl failed to believe her parents still watched over her, nor could she bear the thought of her own essence being yearned away by some lack of devotion. 

Finally, when both of them had lost themselves in their own thoughts, Lidene nodded, ready for her task.

Medefey wished she could get herself back on track so easily, but had trouble pushing those last inklings away. As it was, she was beginning to feel too tired to speak. "I do not believe I'll live through the night, child," she whispered, shushing the girl before she could get a word in edgewise. "When the morning comes, we've both got a journey to take."

"But --"

"Listen to me, child. No more interruptions." She winced and tried to choke back a threatening cough. "Ye know the cart I keep out on the other end of the garden. Where Lysander grazes."

Lidene nodded, for the first time not visibly scowling at the mention of her father's horse, practically wild now, that was constantly getting into their herbs, or frightening the living daylights out of her. "Yes…"

"Ye'll have to place me upon it. Harness Lysander, and take me to the valley of our birth, lay me to rest with our family." She cleared her throat, or tried to, with little luck. "Do you know the way?"

A distressed moan, "Grandmother, I am afraid."

"Ye don't have to be. I'll guide ye, dearie, but ye have to do it. No one else can. Now, do you know the way?"

"I-I don't remember, Grandmother." Rather, she probably did not want to. The last time the trek was made was in a world of snow, when she'd been far too small to know all that transpired. 

"Then listen," Medefey sighed. "Depart at dawn, and for the day keep the sun at yer back…." Her vision swam as she spoke, thoughts retracing the old steps she'd taken many times in her life. To the valley, over the hill and the waterfall. To the family grounds. She'd helped to commit both of her parents to the earth, as well as any man she'd loved and had children by. Her son. Her daughter and her mate. Each had been placed with loving care, with her hardest work, in sections where she felt they might rest easiest. But one placing, one always stood out in her mind. The one she'd picked most specially. As it came to mind, now, she was not sure if her ailing throat had followed, only that it needed to be said. And as the words drifted from her mouth, she felt as though she'd done the one thing in life she'd been waiting to do forever.

And the pain stopped.

TO BE CONTINUED….


	5. II: The Task At Hand

Darkness

-A Legend Fanfic-

*Written by Gale*

A/N Please Read - Now we're finally getting moving. This is where our canon characters from the beginning start to show up again. For the record, no, I don't like writing Blix. Writing in verse is a pain in the ass. So if his dialogue sounds stupid, it's his fault for having such a crappy gimmick, not mine. Once more, no beta. So don't mind the mistakes.

II - The Task At Hand

Lidene did not sleep the rest of the night through; although, as the first bits of dawn crept under the door, and each aching muscle in her body screamed from many hours knelt at the side of her grandmother's cold, still form, it became clear to her that she should have. Part of her clung in sorrow to her dearest and only friend, but the other part, the one that heeded grandmother Medefey's warning not to grieve too long, had been afraid she would sleep past dawn and miss her chance to leave for the valley. Her blue eyes were heavy with a combination of stupor and lonely tears. The walls of her throat itched from too much time spent with sobs shaking within them. 

Craving water, and hoping it might wash her exhaustion away with the tears and everything else, she finally let go of her grandmother's worn and lifeless hand and strode sluggishly to the door. Its already awkward and stubborn shape put up more of a fight this morning, as being both tired and pained sapped most of her strength away. Her ever-fretting and nitpicking logic reminded her that if she were really so enervated, then she really had no hope of moving the body. Determined to ignore that for the moment, however, she shook the troubling thought away and, once out of doors, utilized the luxuries of the stream that ran along the east side of the hut. 

The water was still crisp with the early morning, just the thing Lidene needed to wake herself up. Hours of sweat and lamentation dripped away from her face in cold, comforting droplets of moisture, enough that when she stopped herself, had washed herself clean and taken her fill to drink, she almost felt as though Medefey had not passed in the night at all, that she was merely resting, and would wake when the sun drew closer to its zenith in the sky. Again, almost. 

After composing herself yet again, Lidene returned to the hut, dressed, and set to straightening and wrapping her grandmother's body in the blanket she'd been sleeping under. It was no small nor simple task, as it would not be for anyone preparing the corpse of a loved one for burial. 

Before shrouding Medefey's face, however, Lidene answered a nostalgic, dutiful whim of hers and struck out once again, this time to pick a few flowers growing close by. Each she came to and took, she knelt beforehand and whispered a word of thanks. On any other day, the sentiment would have come out empty and neutral, merely a ritual Lidene had known so long that she could go through the motions of it then give it hardly a thought afterwards. However, since the flowers served a more symbolic task that day, she stopped for the first time, remembered that these voiceless creatures were giving up their beauty for Medefey's, and in turn she truly felt grateful when she spoke to them. She'd been lucky to find any, after all, with the fall coming on.

Finding the few she could to be worthy of her cause, she settled herself to the task of stringing them into her grandmother's hair, drawing off the few dead blooms that still remained in her tangled tresses. She attempted to hum their old lullaby, like she had so many times before when fixing her hair, but the need to hear her guardian and teacher's voice mingle with hers was, like many things this morning, too much for her, and she had to silence herself. 

She very well might have broken down again had a familiar, dreadful and impatient noise not shaken her out of it and brought her mindset back to the task at hand. Pleased to feel any other emotion save sorrow, even if it was irritation, Lidene rose once more and went seeking the din's source, and surely enough, as though he had come into existence there, the bane of her existence, Lysander, her father's old horse, paced about near the garden. The common need to shout at him in order to discourage him from their greens rose up in her, but soon died down when she noted that he was not foraging for food so much as watching and waiting for her. The cart she'd been directed toward the night before lay near him, beset on all sides by wild grass and weeds after so many years of neglect. 

It was not above Lidene's thinking to imagine that Lysander knew what had transpired in the last day. Old, grumpy and unmanageable as he might have been, he had never been stupid in her eyes. 

Lysander was as close to a wild horse as one could get. Technically, yes, he was her father's horse. However, since her father had been up to her family's own tastes, the animal had never been tethered and had been ridden only when his keeper was still alive, and only with his permission. None of the wise-women in their family line had believed in breaking animals to do chores that any human being could do on their own; traveling was one of those chores. The only other time Lidene had seen Lysander put to work was, of course, on journeys such as the one coming up -- to carry a body to the valley. Lidene knew the old stallion knew he would be taking on a similar charge today. 

Of course, she did not allow that to overshadow the fact that he'd taken it upon himself to disappear for a few days, like he tended to now and again when the weather gave way to the chilly autumn. 

"So you decide to come back _now!"_ she scolded, feeling no dread when raising her voice. There was a whole garden between them, so she had little to fear. "Useless bag of bones, what good are you?"

Lysander whickered and trotted a ring about the cart. 

"Yes, yes, I know!" Lidene found herself snapping as she gathered her skirt up and stomped over to him. "Sure you're not too old for the job?" she teased. 

Yes, he was ancient, but huge in comparison to most common breeds of horses. The cart had been child's play for him when he was young and spirited. Lidene doubted he would have too much trouble even now, and an indignant sputter from him was all she needed in order to know he felt the same way. 

Her expression softened as she fished a rope out of the cart and began securing him. Lysander shifted and sidled warily, and she could hardly blame him. She was doing the same thing, for entirely different reasons, of course. "You know you're all I have anymore, you old mule," she murmured, finishing a final knot before coming up in front of him. "And I promise I won't make you do this ever again, but you're going to have to cooperate with me for once in your life." Without really thinking about it, she reached out and patted his muzzle, only realizing what she'd done when Lysander shook his head at her. 

Hesitantly, Lidene wandered back and gave him a short pat on the backside to get him going. She strode along at his side, guiding him back around to the front of the hut, and left him to retrieve her grandmother. A sad smile and a kiss on the forehead were her last gifts to the old woman before she covered her face and carried (translation: dragged) her still form out to the cart. 

It was mid-morning by the time she'd settled the body properly and gathered some simple supplies to take on the trip. All of these were things she carried herself, not wishing to burden Lysander any further by placing them on the cart. The lot of them were not particularly heavy, which therefore told her that if she had no trouble, then there was no reason she should not carry them herself. 

Once noon came and went, the terrain gradually became less familiar and certainly less welcoming. They pressed on, Lysander with the cart and complaining very little, Lidene with her sack of supplies, walking alongside him. In truth, she'd left her home with every intent in _not _stopping until they reached their destination. However, real life hardly ever worked like that, and her better judgment eventually took over and convinced her to stop for lunch. Any further without a break and she felt sure Lysander would have been the one to halt, and he was more than grateful to stop for a drink and a graze. 

Lidene took pity on him and un-harnessed him from the cart for the time being so he could relax his muscles. Quite honestly, she had a few of her own to relax, too, after such a long walk. She settled down on the edge of the cart and treated herself to the loaf of bread she'd packed for lunch. 

Having a spare moment to reflect allowed her to take a better look at her surroundings, something she felt she probably should do before returning to the hut, considering it'd been a decade since she last left her home. Grandmother came and went once or twice to see to the needs of needful folk in villages and farms, but usually, she'd left Lidene at home to watch things. 

The hill rose up on one side of the path they were fallowing, dotted with trees, ancient and young, and shrubs of all kinds. The forest itself was bathed in a red-orange glow from the changing leaves strung all about, and the sounds of animals were not so rampant and noticeable as they might have been earlier in the year. Lidene had never seen the deep forest during this season, and if anything, it was a nice distraction from her current and gloomy mission. Her grandmother had once told her that the seasons changed when mythical creatures called unicorns passed out of the region. Their presence within miles brought about light and prosperity, so whether one saw them or not, there was at least some proof of their existence. Seeing them, of course, would bring on a blessed life to the owner of those eyes. Medefey had told her that was why they were saved during the sudden winter so many years ago. The old woman claimed to have seen them many times grazing in the field with Lysander. Lidene could not remember ever seeing such creatures. Being as divine as they were, she thought she should have. But grandmother explained to her that she had been very small at the time, just a toddler, so her only chances of recalling would be in dreams. 

__

I wish I could be at home, having such beautiful dreams, now, she thought. 

That in mind, leaving the hut empty was probably the only thing that made Lidene want to turn back, take grandmother home and bury her on the land there. At least, then, the place would not have been unprotected and open to the whims of strangers and thieves. It wasn't as though there were many things within her home that would be worth stealing to anyone but people like her and her grandmother, but that did not mean damage could not be done. 

Lidene shook her head; filling it with worries and _would-have, should-have, could-have_'s was the last thing she needed to do, after all. 

__

I must stop trying to discourage myself, she thought. 

Lysander whinnied and kicked at the air. 

Lidene rose from her spot, startled at first, then just annoyed. "All right!" she barked, "I'm moving! No need to get so anxious!" She packed away what was left of her bread and hurried over to re-secure the horse to the cart. Ever the difficult creature, Lysander snorted and danced just out reach of the cart. Lidene stopped reaching for him and had to resist stamping one of her feet in anger. "What's the matter with you?" she demanded. "We've still got somewhere to be, Lysander!"

All the firmness dropped out of her voice and expression when he reared and nearly caught her in the face with one of his massive hooves, and she jumped back a few feet, white-faced, to avoid him when he came down. That removed him from her line of vision going directly from the cart, and the movement of a dark figure there made her pause. Her already rapidly beating heart all but stopped. 

Whatever it was, that stood on two feet but looked little like a human, was poking and pulling at her grandmother's shroud and swaddling. 

Her fear of the horse-gone-insane was quickly replaced by an impulse to protect her cargo. Whether or not the look of dread left her face, she knew not. All she would recall later in a blur of memories was grabbing up a stone and hurling it at her assailant. 

The small but effective rock connected squarely in the center of its chest, and with a yelp, it toppled backwards. 

Lidene knelt and dragged a knife out of one of her boots -- really the only dangerous weapon she possessed -- and talked after it. "G-Get away from there!" she bellowed, hoping that she sounded frightening enough. 

It whimpered and scrambled back away from her, reaching into its clothing -- its armor; now that she was close enough she could see it was wearing armor -- for its own defense, most likely. "Do not hurt me!" it squeaked, holding up its other hand in something resembling a surrender gesture. 

She scowled and opened her mouth to speak, distracted yet again by Lysander's cry. What started in a turn suddenly screeched to a halt, and she froze at the feeling of a blade, much larger than the one she carried, touching her throat. She heard her new attacker long before she saw him. 

"Brave mortal you must be to come alone this way," he said, voice sounding like bits of rusted metal grinding together. A firm hand on her shoulder turned her, and Lidene's jaw dropped at the sight of a face so misshapen and decrepit that had she not watched it speak immediately after, she would have mistaken it for much older a corpse than the one her cart sported. He could not have been, in any way, human, so her next impression was that he must have been one of those creatures her grandmother had told her stories about. A Goblin. "Brave Mortal -- or a _stupid _one, I should say." 

His words confirmed it, triggering a memory of one particular tale of such a being who spoke in verse, using its silky diction to coax a more foolish young miller boy into giving away his mother's horse for a few buttons and shiny rocks.

Both of them secure in the fact that she was not moving so long as his dagger remained at her neck, he snatched her parcel from her and cocked his head in the direction of the cart.

To the creature she'd left whining on the ground, "Anything interesting, Sprig?"

"Nooo, Blix," it hedged, still a bit of a tremble in its voice. "Old meat. Not very fresh at all." It poked at the wrapped corpse with its own blade, now, willing a choked "Stop it!" from Lidene. 

Lysander still sounded as distressed as ever, and Lidene could roll her eyes in his direction and barely see him. Three more of the goblins had appeared and surrounded him. One was swinging a heavy, dingy looking rope, probably in the hopes of getting it about the stallion's neck. 

"Leave him alone!" she cried.

Her own terror notwithstanding, Lidene wondered who she should feel sorry for in that picture: Lysander, or the poor wretch that got close enough to try and lasso him. 

A harder bearing of the dagger brought her attention back to the goblin nearest her, now known as Blix, and she felt a gloved hand relieve her of her knife. A quick fling, and it was sent to meet with the stream, not likely to be seen again. 

"Save your breath and don't trouble yourself, Lady," he drawled. "If we were going to kill you _or _the beast, we would have done it already." He drew the length of his dagger threateningly along her skin before removing it, obviously as aware as she was that running away was not an option.

Frightened tears stung her eyes as she backed away from him, casting a look behind her to make sure she was not retreating into any of his companions. "W-What do you w-want from me, then?" 

"Nothing," he said slimily, a brown, toothy grin stretching across his face. "Tis the Baron that demands it, little Mortal."

"The Baron?" she echoed. 

"Yes, the Baron!" squealed one of the Goblins nearest to a now subdued Lysander.

"Who is the Baron?"

As he sheathed his dagger, Blix quirked a wrinkled brow at her, for whatever reason surprised by her ignorance, but neither troubled nor amused at the prospect. "Yes, the Baron. You trespass in his lands," he sneered, once again shooting a hand out, this time to catch her arm, "and you face him. Your fate lies in _his _hands." He shoved her up the path, past the cart, and she nearly toppled into the first Goblin she'd seen, Sprig. "Bring the horse," he called back to the others. 

The piggish Goblin that'd spoken before whooped and echoed his order. "If it can't work, it'll make a decent ration or two," he added grossly, and upon hearing that, Lidene felt her stomach twist in a sickly manner. 

"Get moving!" Blix snapped, jostling her again. 

She obeyed, if only to avoid being touched by him again, but she instinctually cast her gaze back toward the cart, "Where are you -- I can't just leave the --" 

"You're going to, Missy, if you know what's good for you," he hissed, grasping her by the back of the neck and propelling her onward. 

Sprig seemed to be in the same mindset, although probably for other reasons. "But -- But Blix! What about the --"

"_Leave it. _It's no good to us."

"_No!" _Lidene wailed, finding the strength to wrench out of his hold long enough to round and push back to where her grandmother's body lay. 

Her captor's reflexes, while not quick enough to stop her from freeing herself in the first place, were certainly astute enough to catch her another time. He hooked an arm about her waist as she ran past, yanked her back toward him, and once again she felt cold steel at her defenseless throat. "Do that again, and you'll go to the Baron in pieces, friend," he ground into her ear. She closed her eyes in revulsion upon feeling his lips brush against her skin. He snarled, seemingly not enjoying the experience all that much either, for suddenly she was at arm's length again. "Now _move!" _

Lidene stumbled, vision blurred with tears again, but strode on out of fear of her own life. She cast one last regretful glance at the cart, which was falling behind the lot of them, even the struggling Lysander. 

__

Grandmother…forgive me. 

TO BE CONTINUED…


	6. III: A Means To An End

Darkness

-A Legend Fanfic-

*Written by Gale*

III - A Means To An End

Restless tedium lured Darkness out of bed hours before dusk. Ignoring the questioning whimpers of the maid he'd abandoned there, he felt around for a robe and lazily pulled it over his naked shoulders. Were he in more pleasant a mood he might have purred to himself at the feeling of fresh silks gliding into place over his skin. Touch was so much his favorite sense over any, and he hardly ever passed up a chance to indulge in it. However, as of late, even these simple pleasures he chose to bask in were becoming all the more monotonous. Perhaps it was just today. He _had _woken too early. Once night fell, a bit of exercise would do him some good. 

More groping about produced a pair of trousers. 

Since his banishment, Darkness' eyes had grown steadily worse over time. When at first he had been able to see firelight, even just after sundown, his eyes could now only focus in the dimmest of rooms. On his orders, chambers he frequented the most were lit only with a few sparse candles, and never close to him. He felt very sure that the lady he'd been keeping for the last month was unable to see him as he moved about, examining himself in a mirror on the far wall while he adjusted his hair and found his way into some decent clothing. Ten years in this place had done little to improve his own vanity despite his failing eyesight; in fact it'd gotten just as steadily worse. 

He paused and glowered at himself. 

Ten years.

It boggled the mind, even a divine one, thinking that an entire decade had gone by in a blink, even with a mortal's perception to muck things up a bit. So much time gone, and so little accomplished.

He snorted and shook his head. Well, so little in regard to his goal, anyhow. 

Thank eternity that Darkness could consider himself a patient creature in matters of business, even when near totally blind and trapped within a body so much more diminutive than his former. Without his power, he was left with little choice but to reclaim it, of course, or, as the case happened to be, _steal _someone else's power until his own was again attainable. 

Darkness pulled a cord near the mirror and his ears pricked up at the sound of the door opening close by. "Have the drapes brought down in the great hall and the throne room," he murmured as he came to stand next to the servant waiting there. 

"Y-yes, Milord," was the murmured reply. A new one, obviously. He'd forgotten that Blix had intended to take out a hunting party during the day. No wonder things were so quiet. 

__

I suppose it is too much to hope they might bring something back, he thought dryly, and then, to the trembling mortal, "And have _that," _he cocked his head toward the bed, lowering his voice,_ "_taken out of here while I'm about today. _Before _I return at nightfall."

"Of course, Milord."

What remained of the creatures of the night flocked to his banner early on, and with that small army, Darkness based his stronghold here, a once long-abandoned old fortress, then overtook and enslaved any country folk or wanderers that could be found. Using the extra manpower, it took little time to expand and restore his new home. He was able to delegate his acquired properties into some semblance of splendor, and upon taking the simple title of Baron, Darkness found himself close to his element again.

In the first few years, it'd been so simple. The continued need for workers -- and tasteful mortals to fill his bed -- left his most faithful servants with the task of gathering trespassers. After that, however, only the bravest souls would dare cross into his domain. If Luck smiled upon him -- fickle beast that she was -- Blix and his goblins might bring in new people every few months or so. That, at least, provided some temporary entertainment. Heroes took time to be broken and maidens were almost always susceptible to corruption. Unfortunately for the latter, such deeds were taking less effort, and Darkness quickly grew impatient with such acquired automatons and sent them back to the kitchens, or he would leave their fates in the hands of his followers. How he maintained such a healthy libido with such a boring crop, he would never know. 

As it was, back to the subject of Blix, he and his goblins were _long _overdue. Darkness smirked at himself in the mirror before sweeping out into the hallway. Surely he'd given the servants little time to prepare for his entry and thus, he would have something interesting to do while awaiting a better distraction. When his subjects returned home, he would either have a few new playthings, or a few old faces to badger and abuse until his disposition dictated otherwise. 

It pleased him to see they were up to speed this evening, and there were no glimpses of sunlight from the outside when he made his way to the throne room. A few handfuls of drudges, recognized and not, hurried out of his way and back to their business as he passed. The sudden death of the glow in the way to the throne room was a sure sign that they'd only barely beaten him this time, confirmed by the smell of smoke and burnt wax as he strode in. 

What he did not expect, however, was to find a few goblins already waiting for him. They were Blix's all right, and where he and the rest were, he had no idea, but with these ones close by they could not be far behind. 

"Just who I've been waiting for," Darkness mused, finding and assuming his throne with little trouble. "You bring me news?"

"Y-yes yes, your Lordship," one of the smaller goblins squeaked. "B-Blix sent us ahead to bring you a message. We are most p-pleased you could receive us so early."

That last statement alone was almost enough to convince Darkness to dismiss them for their assumption and force them to wait. However, logic dictated that if Blix had news for him, then it would do him little good to prolong it more than necessary. "Did you find anything?"

"Yes, my Lord," another chimed in. 

"And?"

The third drew himself up his full height, an almost haughty look on his slimy face, "Our party happened upon a traveler nearly half a day south of here."

…For all the insolence in his eyes, this goblin certainly had very little to brag about. 

The lazy smile on Darkness' face rose into a snarl. "Only one?" he sneered. Once sure that his displeasure reached and alarmed the messengers, he began to drum his fingers on the arm of his throne for added effect. 

His best guess would be they caught another of the 'hero' type, or someone that was desperately and inexcusably stupid. The fact remained, however, that it was _only one _person. That would sustain him for a few _hours _at best. 

__

Come off it, argued his better judgment, which was probably the quietest corner of his mind, whether he wished to acknowledge that or not. In greater honesty, he couldn't, since it was often impersonated and replaced by his impulses, whose defense was usually "it seemed like a good idea at the time." _At least it's someone, _better judgment reasoned,_ It's been what? Four months? Six? We don't look gift goblins in the mouth, not when there are so few to spare. _

Point taken. 

Darkness rolled his eyes. "When will they be arriving?" he drawled.

"By sunset, Lord. Within a few hours." 

"Good. I expect an immediate report once they do. Now go."

Once alone, Darkness directed a stray servant back to the kitchens to collect a light breakfast for him. That sustained him for only a short while, giving him the opportunity to chastise that very same worker for not bringing him enough to eat. With a kind of feline sense of play, he waited until the frazzled young man hurried back to him, a second meal in tow, to tell him that he was not hungry anymore. That kind of satisfaction was short-lived, however, and Darkness found himself alone again and looking for new ways to pretend he was not anxious for the hunting party to return to the fortress. 

His impatience was all the more easily concealed when they _did _finally arrive, and he fitted himself with a bored, hooded gaze as Blix and the rest strode into the chamber with a petite cargo in tow. 

His ears perked up yet again, this time drawn by the sound of a faint, but high pitched whimper. 

Blix was smart for his breed; bringing back one sole trespasser would have earned him more than he bargained for. Well, that would be the case were said trespasser not both young and of the female persuasion. All his earlier mental anguish over his boredom with women forgotten, Darkness quirked an eyebrow in their direction. There was no point in keeping up a ruse once the goblin brought his bound quarry close enough for him to see. 

Despite the tired circles drawn deep beneath her eyes, and all other sure signs that the trip had been less than pleasant for her, it was not difficult to tell she far too young yet for his attentions. On one note, that pleased him, but on the other hand, even if he kept her until the proper time, he had to bear in mind that the younger ones tended to be the most difficult. Surely, he adored a challenge, but tears and constant inane screeching irritated him to the core. By the looks of her, she'd done her share of crying before she got there, and with all good hope, that meant there would be no new waves of lamentation arriving soon. 

Her clothing indicated, like many of the others, that she was common-born. That, in itself, heightened his interest. Lowered stature usually came with a certain degree of exposure to the hardships of life. That certainly decreased chances of finding any deeply-embedded traces of innocence, like the kind Darkness found in the Princess Lily before his fall. Purity, like hers, had its upsides, of course, but her betrayal was a harsh reminder for him that innocents, along with their endearing naiveté, were also the most cruel beings on the face of the earth. Peasants, on the other hand, experienced or inexperienced in adversity, held one trait that he found came in handy: an inborn sense of loyalty to their betters. Case in point: him. 

Of course, that was probably why so many women gave into him so quickly, but this was no time to think counterproductively. 

He waved a dismissive hand. "Leave us," he muttered, with a second, habitual gesture indicating that Blix should wait by the door until summoned. 

The goblins left the girl trembling on the floor before him. She crouched, much in a manner he'd only seen in the few green men that'd come in and out of his service over the years. None had lasted long. For some unknown reason he'd always shown a massive score of spite toward their ilk. 

He frowned at that. "Do not hide yourself. Stand so that I may look at you properly."

She made no immediate movement to comply, only turned her eyes up at him. By the look on her face, he knew she could not fully see him, but her gaze did not wander, so she did not follow a voice alone. One thing still bothered, though, the reminder of which drew a near-snarl across his face. 

She was too damn _young._

Of all the people Blix happened to come across, he had to bring back a whelp. 

She wasn't an infant in any case, and as he rationalized before, she might grow into something desirable in time, with proper maintenance of course. That did not mean he could not entertain himself -- just not in the usual way. In fact…

"You are the Baron?"

Darkness shook his head to himself and smiled. "Some call me that." She did not seem quite so frightened as she had when first brought in. "Do you have a name?"

Her voice broke slightly when she replied, "Yes, Baron. Lidene."

"Well, Lidene," he mused, a sly smile replacing his earlier look of malice, "you are most fortunate to have come into my good graces at such an opportune time." At her questioning look, he went on, "Tell me what brought you into my domain, child."

She nodded, reaching up with a tremulous hand to push a few strands of disheveled hair out of her eyes. "M-my grandmother was born near where the goblins found me," she said. "She's just passed on. I was taking her body there to bury." Apologetic sincerity shone in the dim light reflecting in her eyes, "I swear I did not know the land was --"

"A most unfortunate task for one so young," Darkness considered aloud, feigning sympathy. 

"Please, Baron," she entreated, and Darkness realized for the first time that she was not taking that as a title, but a literal name. It was amusing, yes, but it bade him caution himself, for if she did not understand that was a title of nobility, then she might not have as much inferred allegiance as he once believed. "Please allow me to return and finish what I started."

He looked at her flatly. "As you can probably guess, child, allowing your freedom would benefit me very little." He failed to mention that having her remain there would change nothing save his level of boredom for a time. "But I am not above accepting an arrangement. What can you offer me in return?"

By the lost expression he saw, Darkness knew this was a more than difficult thing for her to consider. Again, she was common born, and she probably thought he was considering something in the manner of monetary gain. So, to her, the idea alone was more than likely out of her reach. 

Not that he would accept money or trinkets anyway. 

Her face fell. "I have nothing of value to offer you, Baron."

"In trade, then." Darkness smirked, whether the girl was aware or not she was playing into a familiar old game of his. While he enjoyed the rigors of a spirited prisoner and their attempts at escape, cooperation had its virtues as well. If he made things sound undeniably legal and fair, then he would have that. "I will allow you to do as you ask, Lidene, but on one condition." He lifted a finger in declaration, "Once you have completed the errand, you must, indeed, return here. But in service, not in chains. You will work. That is…" He quirked a brow, "if you have any worthwhile talents to contribute."

As he spoke she raised her eyes to him and seemed, by expression, more than willing to agree to this. Upon his suggestion of skill, however, she shifted in hesitation. "I am trained in my grandmother's craft, Baron."

"And that would be?"

"Doctoring, medicine making, delivering child…"

"A wise woman," he finished for her, "You needn't have said any more than that." That would definitely come in handy. His Goblins did very little in regard to health care save when nursing their own wounds, and would not ask for help. The servants learned to manage on their own for their own benefit. But he had been known to follow in the same practice merely because he would never trust anyone else with treatment. He'd come out better for it. After all, he was not missing any arms or legs nor was he deathly ill. In fact, he was in perfect physical shape -- save for his eyes. Other methods that had been tried had failed or made his condition worse. So trying something old-fashioned would not be too difficult at all. "Yes," Darkness mused, "You might be of use eventually."

He snapped his fingers, watching her tense and turn back in the direction of the door as Blix obediently reappeared. 

"What would you wish of me, Lord?"

"Blix, I trust you were paying attention." 

"Yes, Master."

"Then you know what is to be expected of you. Escort her back to where you found her. See to it her task is finished and she is returned here unharmed."

Blix bowed with a kind of grace that should have been foreign to so loathsome a beast. "It will be done, my Lord."

"Then be gone."

TO BE CONTINUED…


	7. IV: Promises Broken

Darkness

-A Legend Fanfic-

Written by Gale

IV - Promises Broken

Mortal-folk were stupid. It was something that every goblin came to understand in life -- if they went on long enough not to meet some grisly end, that is. For Blix, this was no exception, and his full awareness of that fact stretched far longer than the memory of any lesser goblin could. He was reminded yet again of this great truth as he spurred his horse into action and tore after his prey.

The Baron's orders to the girl had been clear. She would bury her kin then return with no trouble along the way. The burial rite, though drawn out by both idiot mortal tradition and the weight of her mourning, went according to instructions. Finished without any setbacks.

And then she ran.

That stupid, thoughtless child broke her word at the last moment and fled.

Blix cursed his pride at insisting he handle this task by himself, but he would not have it disproven either. He spent a great deal of his life in the service of his Master, and through cunning and a kind of succinctness that he worked down to an art, he proved himself more than worthy as a great leader and soldier for the dark. All from his simple birth as a trickster.

All goblins by nature were the great gluttons. They thrived on excess; eating more than their fill, taking more than necessary, delighting in the basest of humors and actions. Stupidity was rampant and in their ignorance and glee for the misfortune of anyone but themselves, they were for the most part content. Or as content as anyone of that kind of background could be.

Of course, Blix was different. By sheer insistance he elevated himself to something more advanced. He was a better hunter than any pack animal and twice as deadly. Ever watchful, always listening, he drank in knowledge as opposed to ignoring or laughing at it. While his dialect still dripped with the riddle and song of his people, their one beauty, he was something else entirely. Among Goblins, he was the demon. He was the Prince whose title was promised by his master in form and mind.

And by failing to realize that, the girl risked more than her freedom by running from him. She risked her life.

It was knowing that her death would put the Baron off so that spared her for now. However, at this point, she was a danger to the both of them, as Blix felt sure that tardiness was something the Baron would overlook only once.

Those things in mind, he drew his bow only as a way of diversion. By firing off-target, he could drive her in the direction he needed to.

She fell for his bluff, and eventually she circled he back in the direction of the castle. That was hours off, but if he could have her run some of the distance, it would save more time than chasing her the other way.

Desperation eventually drove her into parts of the forest left unblazed, and he was forced to dismount. On foot, his confidence soared, eyes able to pick out tracks in the dark with more ease, and in spite of his armor and sword, he knew she was too tired to stay ahead of him for long.

She was in sight, now, scrambling along short of breath and a limp developing. Blix growled low under his breath as he forced himself into more brisk of a pace. Taking advantage of the extra space, he rounded off of the path she was making, cutting along with a wide curve until he was running alongside her. He kept his weapons holstered for now, allowing that there would be little use for them at this point, save to cause unwanted injury on both their parts.

A glance behind her told him that she still believed he pursued from the rear, and that realization drew a fast smirk across his grotesque face.

He steeled himself and leapt, coming out just ahead and illiciting a shrill cry from her as she twisted away from him and fell. She was not slow on any account, immediately clawing at the earth and greenery beneath her and breaking into a scramble again. He dove and grabbed at her, gloved fingers taking purchase on one of her ankles.

The sound of bone cracking against bone rang in the goblin's ears when she gave a kick at his skull with her free leg, but by some miracle he did not loose his hold. Another growl, and he yanked her closer to him, dragging her across mud and thorn in the process. That one strike on her part was apparrently her last resort. Once he got his bearings about him and looked down at her in the dark, all she could do was whimper and hold her arms up in some effort to protect her face.

"P-please, don't --"

He did not speak. Pleas for mercy were just part of the job at this point. While annoyed to no end, part of him did not blame her for trying to run.

They all did in the end, after all.

Ignoring any further entreaties from her, he found a hand and pulled her up. A dagger drawn on her throat stopped any further attempts at struggles, and he led her patiently back to the horse.

He would tell the Baron she went back on her word and tried to escape. Whatever punishment she garnered from that would be enough. For once in his life, Blix thought of little else but doing his job, at least in consideration of his Master's desires first and foremost.

A well-aimed shove mounted her, and he climbed up behind, placing a warning hand on her arm before taking the reigns.

It had been a long day and night. Despite his restless heart, some light repose would be welcome after this. More than welcome.

Author's Note: Apologies for the long wait, and sorry for the shortness as well. Now that I'm over this hurdle I can continue happily.


End file.
